


Never Meant

by bloodpopsicles



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Gen, High School AU, M/M, Mental Illness, big time, but no MacDennis action (as of yet anyway), drug and alcohol abuse, nsfw at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 04:10:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10209335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodpopsicles/pseuds/bloodpopsicles
Summary: Graduation is nigh, and Dennis is drowning his sorrows. Because graduation means college, which means leaving, which means leaving Mac, which means growing up. And he can't have that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I got a really great comment that I believe was deleted explaining that Penn is an Ivy, which calls into question why Dennis would be so resistant to go. My thinking is he's not upset about going to Penn per se, he just doesn't want to stay in the same city with his abusive parents. Moving away and going on his own could mean a normal life, but he's also afraid of failing at that too. I edited a little to make this clearer!

“How to say goodbye, to these four years? A long goodbye, mixed emotions… Just fragments of another life. Not dead, yet.”  
-American Football, “But the Regrets Are Killing Me”

 

She was still above him, moving rhythmically, her long blonde hair dangling over him. Sometimes the strands would brush his face. He barely noticed. Too busy staring at the white speckled ceiling through slitted lids, eyes screwed up and almost shut, as he focused all attention on the heat and pressure building with every push forward. She bent down to kiss his mouth just as it peaked, and with a sudden anger bordering on fright he turned his head away, biting his lip hard. Too hard. 

Orgasms were the best way to forget. Booze was fine and good, but sometimes he got sick from drinking too much; sometimes from drinking too little. Drugs were the preferred option, but harder to come by and harder to hide. But sex? Sex let Dennis forget all the little exhausting machinations and compulsions needling him night and day. Sex allowed him to just be a body for a while, relying on instinct in autopilot, surrendering to the only motivation that mattered in the moment--getting off. 

So when he came it was hard and quiet and perfect, matter over mind. Blank. Like an empty room. His favorite part was the ringing in his ears, being left functionally deaf for a few seconds after. It reminded him of sitting on the roof in the middle of the night, when the only thing making a sound was his breathing against the blackness. 

Slowly he became aware that she was speaking. It never lasted long enough. 

“What?” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“I said, are you okay?” she asked. “You’re bleeding.” 

He narrowed his eyes and put a finger to his lower lip. It came back red and sticky. “Well would ya look at that,” he muttered. He caught her looking concerned, maybe a little disgusted. “I’m fine,” he dismissed. 

She cleared her throat, eyes darting around the room. “Would you, uh, mind finishing me? I mean you always come so quick, and--”

Dennis groaned, considering telling her to fuck off. But it was harder to get girls to sleep with him than it should have been, and this one… Casey? Candace? C-something. She had been a sure bet for a few lays. Best not take any chances.

He rolled over and positioned himself above her, kissing down her stomach. He had almost reached her vagina when she made a noise a little like a whimper. Dennis smirked at the thought that she was that easy. But then she tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked up to the trail of dark pink blood he had left down her soft white skin leading to her bush. 

“Umm, could it just be hand stuff?” she asked, her eyes a little too wide and her breath shallow. Dennis was still looking at the blood. 

“What? Yeah, I mean… Yeah.” He moved his body back up over hers, slipping his fingers up inside her and back out, up towards her clit. She sighed, shaky, her eyes fluttering closed. He looked at her swollen pink lips, parted just slightly. He leaned in with his mouth, but when their lips touched she recoiled. She looked… Scared.

“I-I don’t want to kiss you with blood in your mouth.”

So he moved his hand until she came, staring at her, staring at the blood down her front. He wasn’t thinking about anything. 

After, she was putting her clothes on while he smoked a cigarette next to the window. He yanked the condom off and tied the end, dropping it into the trash. 

“Can you believe we’re graduating in 3 days? It’s crazy.” She said while putting up her hair, bobby pins dangling between her lips. 

Dennis bit down on the cigarette and his eyes flashed. “No, I guess I can’t believe it.” 

“Aren’t you excited?” she asked. “We finally get to leave, find the real world, make it on our own.”

Something like a match striking bloomed heat in his chest. “Well if you're so fucking jazzed about leaving, Carrie, why don't you go ahead and fuck off?” The words tumbled out, and he wasn't really sure what they were until they were out there, hanging in the air. “Can't even get yourself off in decent time, and you're whiny as shit. Go find some idiot with lower standards than me that’ll fuck you in the mouth, cause I'm not doing you any more favors.”

She just stood there, her face darkening. Dennis thought she might cry. But instead, she just answered quietly, furiously, “My name is Brenda, you fucker. And you were a pity fuck, idiot. I like getting laid and everyone knows you're desperate, so I thought, hey what the hell. Who knew you were a psycho with a blood fetish. My mistake.” Brenda grabbed her purse and headed toward the door. “Get some help, Dennis.”

“Are you still talking?” he snapped, grinding his teeth.

But before he could finish, the door slammed, and he was alone.

Dennis just sat there, watching the cigarette dwindle down between his fingers. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, but time started to bleed together. Eventually he reached over to his side table, cluttered with condoms, cigarette butts, and bottle caps, grabbing the phone. He punched in the number and sat still as it rang. 

“Hello?”

“Hey dude, what are you doing?”

“I was in bed, it's 12:45 in the morning asshole. You're lucky my mom’s working the night shift lately or she’d kick my ass.”

Dennis scoffed. “Oh c’mon, the night is young! Come over and we’ll get fucked up.”

“Dennis it's Wednesday, we have school in like six hours.”

The eye roll Dennis served up was so intense it was almost audible. “Like you could give a shit about school anyway. Besides we’re almost done, what's the harm in one last all-nighter?” Dennis attempted to ignore the weight in his stomach.

There was a long pause on Mac’s end. A sigh. “Find your dad’s Goldschlager or I'm not staying past 2.”

Mac appeared at the door about 10 after 1, in flannel pajama bottoms and a ripped old t shirt that read “6th Grade Wrestling Team, Woodrow Wilson Middle.” It was much too small.

Dennis answered the door in his boxers.

“Man, put some clothes on,” Mac yawned as he entered and flopped onto the couch. 

“Fuck you, this is my house my rules, and I for one like to be comfortable.” Dennis smirked.

Mac glanced toward the stairs. “What about your mom, won't she get mad? I mean it's not like she's my biggest fan on the best day.”

Dennis dismissed him with the wave of a hand. “She's at the vacation house for a few days. Said she needed a break from Dee but honestly? I think she’s fucking her pilates instructor. And dad, well he's still somewhere in South Asia last time I checked. But last time I checked was a while ago, so…”

He trailed off, but then snapped his attention back to Mac. “Point is, we’re free and clear to raid the liquor cabinet.” He paused, adding as an afterthought “Don't get too rowdy though, we don't want Dee waking up and ruining everything.”

Shot after shot was taken as the VHS copy of First Blood droned on in the background. Mac rubbed his bleary eyes.

“Dude, you gotta slow down or we’re gonna pass out before the movie’s even over.”

But Dennis had no intention of stopping. With alcohol burning a hole in his esophagus he started slurring. “You know that fuckin’ Brenda bitch?”

“Who?” Mac answered. “I know you're trying to fuck a girl named Carolyn--”

“Well apparently,” Dennis spat with disdain, “her name is Brenda, and she's a fuckin’ bitch.”

Mac shot Dennis a look. Even through the booze-soaked haze he could suss out what was going on here. “Dude did you call me over in the middle of the goddamn night cause a girl rejected you?”

“No!” Dennis almost shouted, offended at the accusation (Mac had to shush him.) “She didn't reject me, we went all the way! Rocked her world, man. But then, she just wouldn't shut up about how she didn't like blood and how I should be so excited about leaving school and she was so mean--”

“Wait, what does blood have to do with anything?”

“That's not the point, idiot!” Dennis slurred. “I couldn't even have one night of erotic goddamn bliss without being reminded of all the bullshit…”

Mac looked at his friend, too close and too long. Dennis felt Mac’s eyes on his face and his cheeks went hot under their gaze.

“Bro, have you been sleeping? Like, at all?”

“Pfffft,” Dennis sputtered, shaking his head. He reached for the bottle. “That's what study hall is for.” He took a long swig, and wiped his mouth.

Mac glanced at the sticky wet trail of spilled alcohol down Dennis’s front and frowned. 

Dennis noticed. “Don't give me that fuckin… look. The look, like you're worried or some shit.” He tapped his fingernails against the glass bottle between his legs, digging under the label. “Just. Just had a bad night.” 

Mac nodded. Bad nights seemed to be more and more frequent lately. “Yeah man. I get ya.”

They turned their attention back to Rambo annihilating cops in the woods, even though they knew the movie backwards and forwards. Even as they feigned fascination.

Dennis didn't know if it was an hour or two or three later, but he was hazily drifting in and out of consciousness. Mac was a crumpled heap on the couch next to him, sagging against the sofa arm. Dennis realized he was draped over Mac, leaning his torso against Mac’s as his head lolled between Mac’s head and shoulder. 

“Mac are you awake?” 

Mac groaned beneath him--Dennis could feel the rumblings in his own chest. “No.”

“Dude, have you ever…” Dennis trailed off, getting lost in the flickering of the tv static on the ceiling. He started again. “You ever thought about New Mexico?”

Mac sighed and screwed up his face, his voice thick with sleep. “Why would I think about New Mexico? We live in Philly. And I don't give a rat’s ass about anything outside God’s America.”

Dennis sputtered, offended in a way he wouldn't remember in the morning. “New Mexico is a state, dumbass. It's just… It sounds nice, is all. All hot and dry like Mars or something. And I hear it's always sunny, almost every single day. Better than this shithole city. I mean, it's gotta be. Right dude?”

But Mac’s breathing had become rhythmic and slow again, rising up and down beneath Dennis. Dennis sighed and tried to still his spinning head by pressing it into Mac’s chest. “Gotta be.”

\-----

“Cause there's beer, and coffee mugs, water bottles and soda cups. And it's clear as the window I came through, that you are in one of those moods, and I am in one of them too.”  
\--The Front Bottoms “The Beers”

Dennis shuffled in through the double doors of the school, Ray Bans disguising bloodshot eyes underlined with thick dark circles. He felt like exhaustion was leaking through his skin, and everything hurt. Hangovers were a real bitch.

But, like his mom always demonstrated, you can't hurt too bad if you never lose a buzz. That's why he cut the orange juice in his opaque thermos with vodka, and why each sip seemed to center him. Mornings were for screwdrivers.

Dee had found them on the couch, limbs tangled and out cold. She kicked Dennis’s dangling foot, and he responded by chucking the all but empty bottle of peach schnapps at her head. He heard the glass break, and Dee squawk something about “not cleaning up your shit,” and a door slam. But his limbs were lead-heavy and Mac was still warm and soft underneath him. First period didn't matter anyway.

It was almost lunch when they finally rolled onto campus, after Dennis had woken up, showered and jerked off in slow motion while Mac dry heaved into the toilet a few feet away. They would have skipped the whole day, but Mac insisted. If he got any more days absent he may not get his diploma at the end of the week. This way they would just be late.

They slipped in with the lunch crowd, easy and unnoticed. After their time trudging through the line--Mac loaded up on chicken nuggets and fruit cups, while Dennis deigned to pick up a banana--they found their way under the bleachers, where Charlie spent the hour. 

“Didn't see you guys in homeroom!” Charlie squawked, causing Dennis to wince and take an extra long pull from the thermos. “Gotta say, I'm a little hurt, if you were gonna pull a wake and bake you coulda at least called me.”

Mac scoffed between munches. “Dennis had girl problems and he needed a shoulder to drink on.”

Dennis lowered his sunglasses and shot Mac a look full of daggers. “I don't have girl problems, dick. I have bitch problems.” And he said it with such confidence Dennis almost believed it.

But Charlie was already cutting him off. “Oh gross, I don't care then. You would have so much less to worry about if you stopped looking for answers at the bottom of a vagina. Be like me, a man free to pursue his passions without judgement.”

“Bro, your passions are like worms and sewage and cleaning supplies,” Mac countered with a raised eyebrow. 

Charlie frowned, nodded. “The point still stands.”

Dennis smoked cigarette after cigarette. The banana went untouched.

They all shuffled into the English classroom, Dennis wincing as the light cut through the window blinds. He found his seat behind Dee, who, with difficulty due to her back brace, turned around to face him. “Looks like someone decided to show.”

Dennis narrowed his eyes and curled his lip at her, too tired to formulate a decent comeback. Besides, Mrs. Cartwright had started talking.

“...and since you seniors are leaving us at the end of the week, I thought we could do something different these past few days. We’ll be going over the dos and don’ts of college life.”

Mac rolled his eyes at Charlie, who mined hanging himself. The teacher caught this.

“Those of you who are lucky to be getting your high school diploma and will not be moving on to higher education can sit quietly.”

Dennis slumped in his seat, eyes unfocused, scratching the ugly yellow paint off his pencil. Scratching so hard a thin shard of wood splintered under his fingernail, deep. He inhaled sharply and saw the pinprick of red bloom under his thumbnail. 

“Now,” Mrs. Cartwright began, “how many of you are headed to a university in the fall?” 

About three-fourths of the class raised their hands, almost all of them the kids with dads who were lawyers and doctors and CFO’s. Mac and Charlie raised their eyebrows, crossed their arms, and leaned back in their chairs. 

“Wonderful! My future scholars.” Cartwright squealed. Dennis frowned, furrowing his brow. “Let’s go down the line and see who’s going where…”

Dennis rolled his eyes so hard he could see the inside of his skull. 

Murphy to NYU, Adriano to Duke, Brad Fisher to Dartmouth, Rickety Cricket to some fucking seminary upstate… They were all getting out. And on it went, Dennis sinking lower and lower in his seat as his turn approached. 

Dee was up next, and she said “Penn,” with a smug smile on her face. Dennis curled his lip in disgust. This stupid bitch thinks she’s bragging? God what a dumbass. Sure, it was Ivy but staying in this shit town a minute longer than she had to? She was nothing if not embarrassing. 

“Mr. Reynolds?” Cartwright asked, snapping him out of his reverie. “And where will you be attending?”

Dennis twitched, his eyes ricocheting from gaze to gaze, all attention trained on him. “I, uh… Applied a few places, fielding a few offers. Wanna hold out for the best, ya know?”

Dee scoffed. “Pffft, you’re going to Penn just like me, don’t pretend you’re any different.”

It took everything within Dennis not to rip her dead limp hair out of her goddamn head. 

“Interesting!” Cartwright answered, her eyebrows shooting up. Dennis couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or not. “But then again, Penn is a perfectly fine school. You get to stay close to home, visit your parents on the weekends--”

“Like I said,” Dennis hissed, “I’m looking at my options.”

Dennis stalked out of class just as the bell rang, not waiting for the gang as he stomped to his locker. He took the thermos out, and drank the rest of the contents. Even lukewarm, it scratched an itch. When he slammed the tiny metal door he found Mac standing behind it. 

“Jesus dude, don’t pull that shit, not today. I’m not in the mood.” Dennis hissed. 

Mac rolled his eyes. “I don’t get you man,” he muttered. “It’s like you’re not even--”

“Yo Reynolds!” Someone shouted from behind them. Dennis winced hard and blinked away the throbbing in his head as he turned around. Adriano Calvanese of all people, for some reason, was flagging him down. 

“Penn, huh?” Adriano sneered before pushing a flyer into Dennis’s chest. “Staying with mommy and daddy, I guess. Drown your sorrows Saturday night, my place, after graduation.” He glanced at Mac. “Fuck it, bring your boyfriend too. We could always use weed and I’m feeling generous.” Adriano turned to walk away but paused, adding a caveat. “Leave the Aluminum Monster at home though, kay?”

Mac reeled around to Dennis. “Boyfriend? Boyfriend?”

“Not now, dumbass,” Dennis muttered as he studied the flyer for time and address. He frowned and raised his eyebrows, bemused. He hadn’t been invited to an Adriano party since sophomore year, since before he started hanging out with Mac and Charlie. Back when he was cool, back when that seemed to matter. 

“--I mean, it is cool to invite us, everyone knows Adriano throws fucking ragers, but boyfriend? He’s probably deflecting, everyone knows those Roman Catholics love little boy dick. Not like the Irish, we’re God’s chosen people. You don’t go through a potato famine just to end up queer, dude.”

“Mac in the name of god what the fuck are you ever talking about…”

\---------------------

Dennis pulled into the driveway, a little too fast and a little too hard, tires squealing staccato as he stomped the brakes. He exited the car, and stalked toward the mailbox. This was the daily routine, checking and checking and hoping for anything different. So he flipped down the metal mouth, stomach dropping as he saw a letter inside. And this wasn’t a Frank letter decorated with numbers and foreign characters, or a Barbara letter adorned with fancy script, or a bill. This one had a seal, all official and shit. Dennis reached in, then shook his head and clenched his fist until knuckles turned white, then relaxed. Slowly he pulled the envelope from the box and read the top line of the return address: The University of New Mexico.

It wasn’t the big envelope, but that didn’t mean anything, right? He closed his eyes and ripped the envelope open, pulling out the paper and only peeking when it was unfolded in front of his face. 

“Dear Mr. Dennis Reynolds,  
We regret”

Dennis dragged a hand across his face, looking anywhere other than the paper, which he immediately crushed into a ball in his fist. He gnawed at the inside of his cheek until it stung, and he blinked too fast and too much, attempting to keep the pressure behind his eyes from leaking out. 

He cleared his throat forcefully, tossed the letter into the street behind him without so much as a backwards glance, and stalked toward the house. He slammed the front door so hard dogs three houses down started barking. 

Dennis opened the drawer in his bedside table and pulled out a folded up piece of paper and a pen.  
USC  
BERKLEY  
STANFORD  
NYU  
JUILLIARD  
DARTMOUTH  
PENN  
NOTRE DAME  
YALE  
UNLV  
WASHINGTON  
OREGON STATE  
GEORGETOWN  
UT AUSTIN  
OHIO STATE  
EMORY  
VANDERBILT  
NEW MEXICO

Dennis crossed out the last entry on the list, and punched a hole in his wall. 

\--------------

“I can't erase the blank expressions on my face, yet I expect you to know when I am and when I'm not ok.”  
\--Snowing “Kj Jamming”

He had always been obsessive. Hyper-focused on specific things, thoughts burning holes through his head, until eventually the compulsion faded and he moved onto something else. Dennis hated that he had no control over what he fixated on and how long. Usually it was a stupid movie he watched with Mac 3 times a week, or a girl he wanted to screw, or what he looked like in the mirror. But now the sinking pit in his stomach was because of the ceremony looming on the calendar, and he couldn't excise the need to think about it every fucking minute. 

A few years back when they were blasted out of their minds, they had all made a pledge, a blood pact. Which was stupid as shit cause Charlie probably had blood borne pathogens or something, but regardless--they had all sliced their hands and shook on it. Dennis, Mac, Charlie, and Dee would always be there. All for one and one for all, all that jazz, probably because none of them could find any other friends. But fuck anyone else, they had each other. That was the point. 

Dennis still had a thin, faded scar on his palm.

But always seemed more doable when they were 15, not 18 and staring down the barrel of a future. Not when what you want doesn't seem so simple anymore. Dennis wished he was as stupid now as he was that night, when they had booze and knives and something like loyalty. Right now stupid sounded just about perfect.

And then it was Friday night. The days were so fuzzy from the alcohol and pills that Dennis couldn't recall how he spent his last 48 hours as a high school student. But the bell rang 7th hour and everyone threw paper and screamed and carried on, and with mild surprised he remembered it was over.

Friday night was movie night, and some little thing like high school ending wasn't gonna get in the way of a great tradition like that. Such a great tradition they were on their third video store, after being banned from a few. 

“Can we do new releases this week?” Dennis asked, irritable. “I mean we’ve done Lethal Weapon 3 the past 2 weeks. I love Riggs as much as the next guy but I feel like there are explosions we’re missing out on.”

Mac rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Charlie, you find something?”

“Mighty Morphin’, bro!” Charlie answered with excitement as he approached them from a few aisles over, brandishing the VHS box for the Power Rangers Movie. “And it looks like there's a dude made of ooze in this one? Like a good purple slime, too, thick, not too runny. Looks almost as good as Ninja Turtles 2, and that was some quality ooze my guys.”

Mac nodded, grinning. “And I'm thinkin’ Mortal Kombat, dude. I fucking dominate the game at the arcade. Plus their karate moves look sweet as shit. What about you, Den?”

Dennis mustered a smirk for the first time in days, holding up a black case with a woman on the front. “Showgirls.”

Charlie furrowed his brow and grimaced. “Why this chick got one leg?”

Dennis did a double take at the cover and then rolled his eyes. “She has two legs, dumbass. It's that Jessie bitch from Saved by the Bell? But I hear she shows her vag.”

“Jesus, Jessie has fallen pretty far if she's in smut now,” Mac said.

“Yeah first the caffeine pills and now this…” Dennis muttered, practically eye-fucking the cover. 

Dee popped up from behind a shelf next to them. “I'm ready.”

Mac rolled his eyes. “Dee I swear if you make us sit through The Princess Bride one more time--”

“It's Clueless, dumbass,” she answered. The boys groaned. “Shut up!” Dee screeched. “Dennis don't even, you dragged me to see it in the theater, dick.”

They ordered pizza and drank enough between them to kill a horse, movie after movie popped in and out of the VHS player (Dennis had to admit, Clueless was pretty great.) Until it was just him and Mac. Dee and Charlie were passed out on top of each other on the floor of Dennis’s bedroom, still giggling a little in the intoxicated haze. Dennis grabbed his smokes and climbed out the window to sit on the roof. To his slight annoyance, Mac followed. 

They were silent for a while, passing the cigarette back and forth. When Mac spoke it was quiet, but not quite a whisper.

“Penn’s a good school, man,” he muttered. Dennis raised a bandaged hand to Mac’s lips and took the cigarette, never making eye contact. He sighed.

“I know.”

“You're lucky, dude! Lucky you even get to go.”

“I know.”

“At least you have a plan. Me and Charlie? Who knows what happens after tomorrow. After that ceremony? We get jobs, and we work for 50 years and we retire and we die. At least you get a few more years to figure shit out.” A bitterness was seeping through, and Dennis shot a sidelong glance at Mac.

Too tired to argue and knowing Mac was right, Dennis just echoed “I know.”

“If you know so much then why are you getting so fucked up you can't function?” Mac demanded, suddenly clear eyed and staring a hole into Dennis’s cheek. “You think I haven't noticed? You can barely hold a goddamn beer anymore without your hand shaking, and Jesus, the hand.” Mac gestured toward the bandages wrapping Dennis’s knuckles. “Between that and the not sleeping and the pills and the calling me in the middle of the night? I've seen you rage with the best of them but not like this, dude, not for weeks on end. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dennis thought for a while. “That one I can never quite figure out.”

Mac narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. “I'm serious.”

“Yeah?” Dennis flinched. “So am I. Is it a crime to not want to feel anything for a while? It's better than getting wrapped up in all the bullshit like everybody else! And yeah, Penn in the fall, of course, cause I'm a Reynolds, and that's what we do. We’re mean as shit and we die early of alcoholism and we go to fucking Penn. I'm going in a legacy? That's my goddamn legacy…”

He was getting more agitated with each word. Mac watched him closely. 

“You really think I want to stay in Philly the rest of my fucking life?” Dennis spat, not so much at Mac as much as the concept.

Mac cast his eyes downward, into the yard and the street and the perfect cookie cutter houses of the neighborhood. A neighborhood he would never ever belong in. “I think it doesn't sound too bad when you have no other options.”

Dennis closed his eyes and exhaled, resisting the urge to grab Mac by the shoulders and remind him ‘um hello, we’re talking about me and my problems, asshole.’ Instead Dennis leaned back until he was laying on the incline. When he opened his eyes he was looking up at the stars.

“Remember when it seemed like we could do anything we wanted? When you wanted to be a baseball player in the majors and I wanted to be an international playboy veterinarian, and somehow those things seemed doable? Then, fuckin’, I don't know, shit just gets in the way. Shit just gets complicated real fast. Jesus, it’s depressing.”

Mac lay down next to Dennis. “I don't think there's such thing as an international playboy vet, dude. But yeah. We were so stupid.”

“Yeah,” Dennis mumbled. “I miss it.”

Mac nodded. “Me too.”


End file.
